Mistletoe
by aeliuned
Summary: Saiyajins aren't human. Vegeta's no exception. Title says it all. BV, a little OOC. Oh well, it's fanfic. T for language and adult situations. Ooh, adult situations.
1. Mistletoe pt1

A/N: Unlike some authors on I plan to use the title "Kami-sama" to replace the word "God," regardless of context, with the exception of "goddamn."

This the winter following the annihilation of Cell, which I will assume took place in the summer.

Disclaimer: DBZ isn't mine, no profit, nothing

* * *

"Oh come _on,_ Vegeta!" Bulma put her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you're gonna train over Christmas."

"I'm going to train over Christmas."

"To what _end?_" she demanded. "To defeat a practically pacifist _twelve-year-old?_"

Well, now that she put it that way, it did seem rather foolish.

"What's Christmas, anyway?" Vegeta asked, draping his towel over his left shoulder.

"It's a holiday that's widely celebrated," Bulma answered, smiling. "You thank Kami-sama that we are alive and well and—"

"That's what you called 'Thanksgiving,'" he interrupted irritably, believing that she had tricked him into enduring Kakarotto's weakling friends when they had visited on the said "Thanksgiving" for dinner.

"No, that's—never mind," Bulma said, a little annoyed, too. "Christmas is a lot more 'sold out' than Thanksgiving. Best part is, it's when gifts are exchanged." She hugged him despite his sweat and looked into his eyes. "You going to give me something, Vegeta?"

"You know what, I just might train over Christmas after all," he said as he drew away from her embrace.

"And where do you plan to sleep?" Bulma asked sweetly.

"Bulma—"

"And even if I let you sleep inside the house, I know you hate the cold," she continued. "And since the GR is out here, you'd have to get out into the snow and ice and cold air in the morning to train."

"Well, it's been pretty warm so far," he said dubiously.

"Forecast for December starting next week: blizzards, ice storms, flurries," Bulma said. "Anyway…if you'd been training all day, at night you'd be all sweaty, and by then the temperatures will have dropped into the sub-zero range, which means your sweat would freeze. Then you'd catch your death of cold—"

"A disease, kill _me?"_ he half-laughed, half-scoffed.

"It nearly got Goku, Vegeta," she reminded him quietly, hugging him again. "And I _really_ don't want to lose someone close to me, especially over the holidays…"

He hugged her back in a rare gesture of affection. Bulma sighed contentedly, knowing he meant yes.

Vegeta collapsed on the sofa. He stared, bored, at the blinking "Christmas tree." Personally he thought it was a waste of space and energy, but Bulma had insisted upon it. However, he had not been able to resist the temptation to tie her up with the "tinsel." He smirked as he recalled her furious screaming. Eventually he had destroyed her bonds, and she had forced him to follow her to buy some more. But still, her dismay had been pretty damn hilarious.

He heard a foreign sound and automatically scanned the room. His gaze fell upon a plate of cookies and milk. He decided he might as well eat the cookies, and ambled over to the end table where the food had been placed, not bothering to fully register the small sprig that hung directly above him.

"Hey Vegeta," Bulma greeted him from behind him.

He only grunted in reply, since his mouth was full.

"I see you found the cookies mama made for Santa," Her voice held more than a little mirth.

"Santa?"

"Yeah—fat, jolly, old man who rides a sleigh run by flying reindeer. He delivers presents to little kids who've been good all year.

"Is he any good at fighting?"

"Oh my fucking—is fighting all you think about?" Bulma didn't wait for an answer. "And no, Santa isn't any good at fighting."

"And how would you know?" he shot at her.

"Um…'cause he doesn't exist?" She laughed when she saw his incredulity. "It's just a ruse to get kids to behave, Vegeta."

Vegeta, snarling, turned his back on Bulma and consumed the cookies with evident violence. That was a dirty trick! How could he have known if this "Santa" was real or not?!

Bulma gasped, causing Vegeta to face Bulma, his eyes searching the room for something malign. He realized too late that her gasp had been far from serious.

"Oh, look!" she grinned mischievously, pointing at the small spray of vegetation that dangled from the ceiling. "It's mistletoe!"

"What about it?" Vegeta asked as he took a relatively calm bite out of another cookie.

"Weeeell," Bulma's grin widened considerably. "It's tradition here on Earth to kiss anyone who's under the proverbial mistletoe during the winter holidays…"

"Kiss? What's that?"

Bulma's jaw dropped.

"Y-you don't know?" she gaped. "You HONESTLY _don't know?"_

"I'm not acquainted with all of your human customs," Vegeta said snappishly. "So what is it?"

"It's a gesture of affection—Kami-sama, you _really_ don't know?"

_"Bulma,"_ he growled.

"Then—then how did you Saiyajins express affection?"

"We didn't," Vegeta replied flatly. "It was just approval from both sides, screw, then wait until the child was born."

"So you guys never did it for pleasure?" she asked, awed.

"How would I know?" Vegeta demanded scornfully, his cheeks reddening nevertheless. "I never got old enough to learn _anything_ about courtship, if there was any. I only perceived tradition."

"So you Saiyajins never kissed."

"Goddammit Bulma." Vegeta turned to leave.

"Oh, no you don't," Bulma grabbed his forearm and dragged him back to the spot where he had been standing seconds ago. "Kissing under the mistletoe is a tradition I plan to uphold."

"Fuck tradition!"

"But you've seen me and Yamucha kiss, right?"

"No! I, unlike the Bastard, was actually _training_ to face the androids!"

"And unlike 'the Bastard' a.k.a. _Yamucha_, was blowing up GR's!"

"At least I—" he began furiously.

Bulma placed her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

* * *


	2. Mistletoe pt2

A/N: so, um, i'm back...er, yeah. i was gone during the summer a place with no internet access, so...yay.

disclaimer...like i need one. who would buy this, anyway? I didn't make any $, but i should get a job.

* * *

Vegeta was not quite comprehending the situation. Okay, recap…

Bulma had convinced him not to train over the holidays.

Bulma had placed the cookies under the "mistletoe" so as to trick him in to standing under the sprig.

Bulma had—

_What the fuuuck?_

Finally, his eyes focused back into reality. Bulma's eyes were closed and her lips were touching his. So he had unintentionally lied to her by saying he had never seen the Bastard… "kiss"…her. In fact, Bulma was aware of the fact that he had indeed seen them kiss. After all, he knew she remembered…

_(Flashback, 2 years ago, March)_

_Bulma and the Bastard came into the house noisily.__ Bulma was wearing something that was decidedly immo__dest (which was usually the case when she was with her weak consort__) and the Bastard was robed in the tacky yellow suit "he" never failed to wear when __"__he__"__ was with Bulma.__ Vegeta, having just entered moments before—the GR had run out of drinking water—was in the kitchen, downing __a water__ bottle in a matter of seconds. His generally silent nature resulted in the "man" and woman not __being __aware of__ his presence. __Vegeta__ watched the __Bastard hold Bulma and touch her lips with "his." __She copied__ the __motion. The Saiyajin watched them coolly, carefully indifferent of their human affairs although his interest in this strange human conduc__t was evident. __He noted that both the Bastard and Bulma seemed to be enjoying this__ activit__y and were becoming increasingly agitated—and impatient._

_Eventually Bulma noticed Vegeta, and she immediately detached herse__lf from the Bastard__, her eyes wide and cheeks red—redder still when he raised an eyebrow as her gaze darted to his __bare, sculpted chest __repeatedly__ Well, he couldn't blame her._

_"H-hi, Vegeta,"__ she said rat__her __uneasily__. "Um, __didn't see you there."_

_"__Uh, I—__I__ better go," the Bastard muttered to Bulma. Vegeta smirked, __registering his apparent fear with __satisfaction. "__See you, um, later, Bulma.__"_

_"See ya," Bulma said somewhat forlornly. _

_Her cheeks were still pink when she turned to face Vegeta, but she was not at all afraid. Vegeta __noted this fact and was pleased with her consistent lack of fear of him. __Instead, she was defiant; Vegeta could see it in the way she poised her head and how she set her jaw, but most of all, her blue gaze. Those eyes challenged him, daring him to __say or do something. _

_"The GR's out of water," he informed her unperturbedly, and went back to the GR, pondering what Bulma __and the Bastard had been doin__g and why the former had appeared to be __embarrassed. As soon as he entered the spherical chamber all of those thoughts fled his mind as he upped the gravity._

_(End __of __flashback)_

So if contact of lips was kissing, and kissing was a gesture of affection, it still didn't clarify why Bulma had been embarrassed. Perhaps their agitation had been…

_God__-fucking-__damn_

At last, he had discovered a link between human behavior and fucking.

Well, that unexpected epiphany would certainly explain why his heart was suddenly pounding like mad.

At last, Bulma pulled away. She was blushing—no surprise there—and wasn't meeting his gaze. This was an occasion; ever since he had come to Earth, there had only been two times when she had refused to look him in the eye: the day after they had fucked for the first time, and when she had told him she was pregnant.

Was she embarrassed? Regretful? Ashamed, even?

When she seemed to be seconds away from leaving, some strange instinct drove him to reciprocate the gesture.

That first kiss had simply been contact of lips. She had been able to sense his shock, and had been afraid that he would push her away.

But now…

Vegeta had kissed her of his own accord. She curved her arms around his neck and impulsively slipped her tongue between his lips. She winced at her forwardness. She could only hope…

To her surprise, he returned the favor and held her slender body in his arms, keeping her steady and on her feet as they kissed, and she could think of nothing else as she tasted him for the first time in her life.

They sunk to the floor, full of want and abandon. The milk and remaining cookies (Bulma had asked her mother to bake a lot, since she didn't want Vegeta to finish them so quick that she would not be able to talk to him, let alone kiss him) toppled to the floor, unheeded.

"Bulma, what's the point of closing my eyes when I can perceive everything with my remaining senses, including my ki? And besides, the power's out."

"Fine, but please, Vegeta, could you close your eyes anyway?" the blue-haired seraph wheedled. "I mean, mama lit the candles by herself, we might as well acknowledge the light."

He scoffed, but succumbed nonetheless. However, his claims proved to be true; he followed Bulma with more ease than she, even with his eyes closed. He stopped when she did.

"You can open your eyes now," she said excitedly.

"A door?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

"You moron," Bulma rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should, say, um…_open it?"_

He opened the door slowly, wary of a prank. Bulma intervened, muttering something about not trusting her, and swung the door to the side.

Vegeta recognized what it was in a second.

"Tada!" Bulma waved her arms in mock ceremony. "An indoor GR. Aren't you lucky I'm a genius?" Her smile suddenly turned shy. "So…did you get anything for me?"

He glanced at her in surprise.

"I already gave it to you."

She looked into his eyes, confused.

"Huh?"

"What, you forgot already?" A smirk struggled to touch his face. "Let me refresh your memory."

He dipped down and kissed her without any reserve, keeping her balance in check by holding her flush against him. He could practically taste her surprise—he could certainly see it in her cerulean gaze. He broke the contact and whispered in her ear,

"A gesture of affection. That is my gift to you."

* * *

again, the OOC strikes again. 


End file.
